


The Dark of the Moon

by Daegaer



Category: Earthsea - Ursula K. Le Guin
Genre: F/F, Female Friendship, Priestesses, Reincarnation, Tombs of Atuan, dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-13
Updated: 2010-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-11 18:58:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arha refuses to be alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dark of the Moon

Thar and Kossil were both tall. Thar was thin and quiet, Kossil was heavy-set and menacing. Arha found them both insufferable beyond compare in their insistence that she act as the Eaten One should, with silent dignity rather than a girl's mischief. When she wasn't angry with them, she could see that Thar was stern, yet fair, teaching her pride and the knowledge she would need. She was unlike Kossil, who taught people to fear her and who beat the mischief out of Arha by beating Penthe. Arha stood, breathless with anger and hate as the cane came down again and again on Penthe's bare back, for no one could whip the Priestess of the Tombs, but Penthe had no status. And no protection, for Arha could not stop it.

"She is a priestess of the God-King, Mistress," Kossil said with heavy satisfaction after the girl had crept out, shuddering as her woollen robe rubbed against the welts. "I must be allowed discipline her as I see fit."

"She did it because Penthe is my friend," Arha raged later.

"Yes," Thar said. "She did. And now she has seen the girl can be used against you. Do not give her the excuse to do it again."

"It's not _fair_ ," Arha said, hating how her voice sounded.

"You are the Eaten One," Thar said. "You are alone. You can protect your friend by remembering who you are." She paused, and her face grew sterner. "And by giving her up. The Eaten One does not need friends."

Arha glared at her in silent fury until she bowed and left.

 

* * *

 

After Arha became a woman, Thar died. At first nobody saw that she was sick, she was so quiet and private. But then it was seen how she who had been thin now seemed as if her skin were stretched across bare bones, and she could no longer hide the cough that tore at her throat. Thar became quieter, her voice no longer heard by anyone, for it caused her pain to speak. Only to Arha would she speak, forcing the words out, telling her of things she needed to know. When she grew tired she spoke of Arha-that-was, who had shared her youth. Arha listened with unease as Thar's thin, rasping voice recalled images from another time.

"You danced so fast at the Dark of the Moon that no one could see how you would not be cut," Thar said. "You should practice more, you are not yet as fast as Arha-that-was." She swallowed, grimacing, for there seemed now always to be something in her throat. "Your hair was pale, like the moon," she said in a voice little above a whisper.

Arha put her black hair back from her face, and left Thar to sleep.

"When I am gone," Thar whispered the next night, "beware Kossil. You are the Mistress of the Place of the Tombs, but you are young. When the rites of purification are over, and they have chosen a new high priestess of the Twin Gods you must work to make her your ally. Together, you will make the Place great again."

"Thar," Arha said, leaning close and whispering, "does Kossil mean me harm?"

"No," Thar said, trying not to cough. "You are Arha. But she is too jealous for the God-King's sake. You must respect her place, but you must not allow yourself to be pushed aside. You should remember how she tried to have the novices work only in the God-King's House, and how you decreed that for a full year all the wealth that came to the Place would go into the Tombs."

"That was Arha-that-was," Arha said quietly, hating to see Thar's mind wander.

"You are Arha," Thar said in much her old voice. "Do not forget it."

When it was seen that the end was near, Arha fasted and did not move from Thar's side. She chased away all others, washing and feeding Thar with her own hands. The woman had grown as light as a child.

"Forgive me, Arha," Thar said as Arha wiped the blood away from her lips after another series of coughs had shaken her. "Forgive me for leaving you."

"You have done no wrong," Arha said quietly. "There is nothing to forgive." She held a cup of water to Thar's mouth and waited to see if she would sleep, having drunk.

"Then forgive my presumption," Thar said. "You were so very bright and lovely. I could not stop being your friend." She closed her eyes. "I do not care what they did, you should not have blamed yourself."

Arha bent down over her. "What, Thar?" she asked. There was no reply, and hating herself she whispered, "Why should I not blame myself?"

"You were worth any punishment," Thar said, and slowly opened her eyes. She frowned, a shadow of her stern demeanour. "Why, child," she said, "you are still here."

Arha sat back on her heels, thinking of the old scars she had seen on Thar's back, scars made with something other than a cane, and felt a vast and cold anger fill her as she remembered the triumphant look Kossil had shot at Thar when Penthe had been beaten.

"The One Priestess should be able to protect her friends," she said. "Arha-that-was should have done so."

"Arha-that-was did as she should," Thar said. "I am content."

Knowing the stupidity of it even as she spoke, Arha cried, "I wish that when you are reborn you might see her!"

"But I have already seen you," Thar said. She swallowed and seemed in pain. "And I still love you. Forgive me."

Arha stood, looking down at her; then, although it was not the time for it nor the place, she unhooked the little knife from her belt and began the Dance for the Dark of the Moon. There was no sound but that of her bare feet on the floor as she danced as fast as she could, throwing the little knife and snatching it from the air, now by the hilt, now by the blade. She moved faster than she had ever dared before, no longer seeing the knife, but trusting that it would be where she thought. She finished, and stood silent, her robes settling around her feet, then bowed her head to the ground in front of the high priestess of the Twin Gods, which Arha had never done before. Thar's hand brushed against her head.

'I always loved your hair,' Thar said.

She did not speak again. The next day she slipped into darkness, holding Arha's hand.

 

* * *

 

When the rites of purification were completed, and a new high priestess had not yet been chosen, the Dark of the Moon came around. Arha danced before the Throne, with no one to see her but her Masters. She spun and whirled in the Dance, the little knife never ceasing in its movement. She danced before the other priestesses, hearing only the sound of her feet on stone. She stopped and looked into Penthe's face, seeing the girl look at her bright-eyed with admiration and knew she had danced faster than the others had ever seen her before.

In the Small House, where none came but by her word, Arha stood smiling as Penthe reached out a trembling hand and stroked her hair. She sighed as Penthe touched her clumsily.

She was Arha. She was the Eaten One. But she would not be alone.


End file.
